


The Faults They Had

by bresby



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, pre Jon/Martin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bresby/pseuds/bresby
Summary: The staff at the archives have enough on their plates. Between being literally trapped at their jobs and trying to stop the Unknowing, they simply cannot handle another crisis. Trust and communication are at an all-time low.The last thing any of them need is to suddenly have to care for two children - especially when one of them was raised to be Lonely and the other insists he's from the 1800s. Both children claim to have no memories of their adult selves.Trusting these children seems beyond foolish, and their presence brings up traumas old and new for everyone around them. But children could grow up to be anyone. So regardless of who they used to be or what powers have claimed them, don't they deserve that chance?
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> CW for this part:  
> Mentions of past childhood neglect/abuse  
> Mild child peril  
> Mild body horror
> 
> If the MCD tag is making you wary of reading, it will be the same death that would be happening around this time anyway in the canon. 
> 
> I'd like thank everyone on the Magnus Writers discord for their endless supply of ideas. In particular, many thanks to my beta DesertWillow for her excellent advice and support. 
> 
> This fic picks up directly after Peter first meets Martin in episode 108 and then diverges.

_Well, that had been quite amusing_ , Peter thought as he walked towards Elias’s office. Still, he mused, his first encounter with Martin hadn’t gone quite as well as he had hoped. Not that it had been all bad, not at all. He naturally had enjoyed Martin’s fear, and the jumpiness had been wonderfully entertaining. But Martin’s foreknowledge about him would make converting him significantly more difficult. He couldn’t believe Elias. Having him read a Lonely statement on today of all days...

Peter planned on letting Elias know exactly what he thought of that little trick. Really, biasing the man against him before he’d even had a chance to get started had to be cheating. Not that it would matter. Martin’s desire to _help everyone_ would be his undoing. Ironic, really. Peter looked forward to the look on Elias’s face when he won this bet.

Shaking his head, Peter slipped through the halls unnoticed, as much in the Lonely as he was in the Institute. He bypassed Elias’ smiling receptionist and headed straight into the office, not bothering to knock. It had been a long-time goal of his to finally catch the bastard by surprise one day. It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew full well that Elias couldn’t pay attention every minute of the day. He’d get him sooner or later.

To his disappointment, however, the imposing office appeared utterly devoid of life. 

He thought nothing of it at first, but he quickly grew irritated when Elias failed to appear. Was this the right time? Yes, of course it was. It wasn’t as if _he_ had many meetings on his schedule to keep track of. Peter frowned in irritation. Elias had always been so keen on being professional, to a quite frankly irritating degree, so this was very strange behavior for him.

Sighing, Peter decided to wait. It was an inconvenience, but it was still better than having to _ask around_ to see if anyone else had seen him _._ He leaned against the wall next to the door, an ideal spot for manifesting out of the Lonely for maximum shock value.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and still no Elias. Peter found himself becoming… No, that was absurd. He was not concerned or worried about the man; he was annoyed. And even if he _were_ concerned, it was just because Elias being late was highly unusual behavior. There weren’t many beings in this world that could interfere with Elias, so if something had happened to him, that might mean Peter was also at risk. No, any worry he was feeling was solely due to a highly justified self-preservation instinct.

Realizing he’d been missing an obvious solution, he attempted to call Elias’s mobile. It began ringing from within the room, the buzzing of the vibration loud against the heavy wooden desk. A thump followed from the same direction. Interesting. Had that last bit been his imagination? And why on earth had Elias left his phone behind?

He decided to look around the office for clues. If nothing else, he might get some blackmail material out of this. The meticulously organized files and books all seemed to be put away in their proper positions. The heavy emerald-colored curtains fell without a wrinkle. Even the paper clips were all lined up in the same direction in their container, which honestly felt a bit over the top. None of the antique furniture had so much as a scuff— 

No, wait, there. Looking closer, he noticed the studded leather chair behind the desk had been left slightly askew. It was a tiny thing, hardly worth noticing. But Elias would never have allowed it.

Hoping to confirm a theory, he allowed himself to materialize out of the Lonely. Then, he stomped his foot loudly, just the once. He heard a stifled gasp and the sounds of shuffling underneath the desk. Oh, now wasn’t that intriguing? Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the fear permeating the room. Someone, perhaps a very small someone, was terribly, terribly lost, and they were all alone. Peter grinned, basking in the familiar sensation. Today had suddenly become much more interesting.

Chuckling, he hid himself in the Lonely again. The tell-tale tea kettle whistle resulted in another gasp from under the desk. As Peter crouched down to look, it took him a moment to make sense of what he saw. 

On the one hand, he’d been entirely correct. There was, in fact, a child. A young blond boy sat shaking with his knees to his chest, desperately clutching some hidden object and looking around for the unseen intruder. Peter grinned. There was nothing quite like the potent loneliness of a lost child who wants their parents.

Now, he had just been planning on giving the boy a fright. After all, if he made Elias cover up the disappearance of a child from his own office, he might actually kill him. Besides, children in general were too much trouble. Even if children could often be an excellent source of fear for the Lonely, using them as such would require, well, _regularly interacting with children._ And that was a price Peter typically was unwilling to pay.

But all such thoughts left as he tried to figure out why the boy was dressed in such a curious manner. He was clad in only the top half of an expensive double breasted suit. The tie hung loosely around his neck, and the suit jacket slumped off his shoulders. The shirt provided enough length for him to wrap around his entire body. Off to the side lay a crumpled pair of trousers. How had he gotten in here, anyway? Surely someone would have noticed a child roaming the halls dressed like this.

As much as he loathed the thought of talking, he might know something about Elias. Peter left the Lonely all at once, appearing a few inches from the boy’s face.

The boy shrieked in terror and chucked the object he was holding at Peter’s face. It thwacked against his nose painfully before he managed to catch it. Jerking back reflectively, he banged his head against the desk. The boy took the opportunity to push past him, scampering to another part of the room.

“Why, you little…” he started to shout , but then he cursed once his eyes stopped watering for long enough for him to see what he was holding. It was a book, a worn paperback with the twee title “The Joys of Parenthood.” Its cover showed artwork of a nauseatingly happy family hugging outside a suburban house: a husband, wife, and two children, all dressed like it was the 1950s and smiling in a quite frankly unnatural manner. He found it oddly difficult to let go of, but he finally managed to throw it to the side in disgust. 

Dammit. Many others had accused Peter of not being the brightest avatar out there, but even he knew you didn’t survive long in this business by picking up strange books. He had zero doubts about whose name must be on the inside cover or what most likely happened to that boy, whoever he was. 

A hot bubbling sensation seethed under his skin. This unfortunately didn’t seem to be the variety of Leitner where you actually had to read the source material for the change to take effect. Looking down at his hands, he could see the flesh beginning to warp and shift as he felt the sharp splinters of his bones starting to crack.

“Sir?” the boy asked, staring at him in wide-eyed fascination. Peter turned towards him in a daze, but he stumbled when he tried to step towards him, collapsing to the floor. The boy continued, in a more worried tone, “Sir? Are you well? Please, what should I do?”

Gritting his teeth through the pain, Peter ignored the brat as he continued prattling and staring. God, even the child’s stare felt loud right now. It reminded him of something he couldn’t place. 

Damn the brat and his book. This was what you got when you interacted with children. There was a reason he’d avoided it even when he’d been a child himself.

Huh. He hadn’t thought of his childhood in ages, but those memories felt especially potent now. Thoughts of years spent wandering the grounds at Moorland House and avoiding his already limited interaction with his tutors flitted across his mind. He supposed it was fitting, considering that his limbs were quickly folding in on themselves in the manner of a collapsible telescope. He just hoped the boy didn’t expect a playmate like — now those were two names he hadn’t thought of in ages. Like Aaron and Judith. 

When he’d realized that his younger siblings had been removed from Moorland House, his first thought had been _good riddance_. Even then, before he’d known what it meant to be a Lukas, he’d recognized that they hadn’t been proper Lukas’ at all. He bet this boy would have liked them and their inane, noisy games. For him, though, it had just been one more bit of proof that you only have yourself. People were irritating, confusing, and loud. Then one day, they’d just go away without a word. And life was better that way.

At least, that was how he remembered it all. But it had been such a long time ago.

The fuzzy sensation had crept to his head, making it hard for Peter to keep his train of thought, and the corners of the room had started to blur and spin. Soon, all he could see clearly was the boy’s worried face, staring earnestly down at his. Why did the look of concern seem so strange coming from those grey eyes, and why did the barely concealed morbid fascination seem so right? He was missing something obvious, but he just…couldn’t...think....

_Oh._

_Those eyes. I know those eyes,_ he thought, and then he knew no more. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the children, Martin freaks out, and young Jonah freaks out more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One line of dialogue is taken directly from episode 108.
> 
> Many, many thanks to the Magnus Writers' discord for being a source of ideas and to my beta DesertWillow for her feedback on what a Regency era child might know and not know. 
> 
> CW: There are brief mentions of child neglect and some mild period-typical attitudes from Jonah.

“Okay, look. I don’t know what the situation is, she won’t tell me, but she’s not doing well. We were meant to go for a drink last week, but… I think it has something to do Elias.” Basira said, somehow both a little too quickly and with too much hesitation. Then again, Martin supposed it was fair. None of them really did talk much, did they? And he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to reveal Melanie’s personal information.

Hadn’t Elias terrorized them enough? He didn’t know what he’d done, but Melanie didn’t seem like an easy target. It must have been something awful.

Just as he was about to respond, the phone on the desk rang. He paused, staring at it. Basira gestured for him to go ahead, so he picked it up.

“Hello.” Rosie’s voice rang out over the phone. She sounded upbeat and cheery as usual, but Martin thought there was a bit of an edge to her voice. 

“Er, hi Rosie! It’s Martin. Can I help you?” He did not say what he was thinking, which was _Oh God, what now?_

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Mr. Bouchard just needs to talk with someone from the archives for a moment. So if one of you wouldn’t mind coming up _as soon as possible_ , he’d appreciate it.”

“Rosie…is everything alright?” he asked. 

“What? Oh, of course. It’s just a little thing,” Rosie answered, a bit too quickly. 

Martin’s stomach turned. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. Oh well. Best get this over with. Wouldn’t want to keep _Elias_ waiting.

“Of course, Rosie. One of us will be right up,” he said, as comforting as he could be, before hanging up the phone.

“What’s this about then?” Basira asked. 

“Elias needs us for some _mysterious_ reason. I guess we’re about to find out,” Martin said. He really hoped this was something stupid like an improperly filed expense report, but he doubted it. Why would the universe do that when he could have two ominous encounters in one day?

“Sounds wonderful,” Basira replied. 

Martin wished they could have gotten some more backup before heading up, but of course no one was anywhere to be found. Jon was in America, and as for Melanie and Tim, well...perhaps it was for the best that they couldn’t find them. 

Upon seeing them, Rosie loudly whispered, “Oh, thank goodness!” Then she quickly shut her mouth, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Er, is everything alright Rosie? Do you know what Elias wants?” Martin asked. He hoped he sounded casual.

“Well, yes, about that…” Rosie trailed off and looked away.

“We can’t help if you don’t tell us what’s wrong,” Basira said.

Rosie seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and then she nodded, continuing in a conspiratorial tone. “If you must know, I haven’t actually heard from Mr. Bouchard since he came in this morning. But a few minutes ago, I heard what sounded like screaming coming from his office. Two voices, neither of them his. And I just didn’t feel safe going in there myself, you understand.” She looked between them anxiously.

Martin immediately started thinking of worst case scenarios. He’d already discovered two corpses because of Elias, and he did not appreciate the thought that he might be about to find a third or even fourth. That was an entirely unacceptable amount of corpses for an archiving job. 

“Why call us?” Basira asked. 

Rosie hesitated a moment before responding. “Well, I know you’ve had a lot of conversations with Mr. Bouchard recently. And I guess I just thought that if something _odd_ were going on, you might have the best chance of knowing what it was.”

“Did you hear anything said? Can you tell me anything about the voices?” Basira asked. Martin wondered at her ability to remain entirely unfazed by whatever was going on. 

“Not really. One was quite high-pitched, the other voice was lower. I couldn’t make it out,” Rosie said. 

“Right, Martin, let’s go. Rosie, you stay here,” said Basira, brusque and to-the-point. 

Rosie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s nothing. But I just wanted to be sure,” Rosie said. 

Basira started marching towards the office without another word. 

“Should we wait until the others get back?” Martin asked. If there was about to be a fight, he definitely wouldn’t be much use. He wished…he wished Jon were here, or that he would at least pick up his phone. If he didn’t return his calls soon, Martin was going to start thinking he’d gotten himself kidnapped _again._

“No time. I’m not sure either of them would be able to keep a cool head anyway. If Daisy were around, I’d get her, but she’s not,” Basira said, not bothering to look at him. “You ready?”

“I guess?” he said, meaning no. 

Basira nodded, said, “Get behind me,” and opened the door a crack, peeking in.

Instantly flinging the door wide open, she said, “What the hell?” 

Peaking around her, Martin also let out his own, “What!?”

There were two boys. One, who seemed a bit older, was unconscious on the ground. The other one was desperately trying to shake him awake. Both were dressed in some amount of absurdly oversized clothing. Basira instantly rushed over to the unconscious boy and started checking him over, and the other one jumped back, looking at her with trepidation.

“He’s breathing, and his pulse is fine,” she said. “He’s just asleep.” She tried gently shaking his shoulder, but he didn’t stir.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Martin asked, but Basira shook her head.

“Give him a minute. I don’t want to deal with any more questions than we absolutely have to.”

“Then, turning to the other boy, who was still staring at both of them, she said, “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” Martin waved at him awkwardly. He grinned nervously back.

Christ, now Elias was bringing kids into this? Martin had gotten the fact that he was evil loud and clear, but kids? Why were there children in Elias’s office?

“Er, hi? What’s your name? I’m Martin.” 

“Jonah, sir,” the boy said, standing up straighter and making what looked like a conscious effort not to fidget. His voice was high and clear, and his words were carefully enunciated. 

“Just Martin is fine. You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” Martin said, smiling a little. The boy wrinkled his nose a bit at this. He wasn’t that intimidating, was he? The poor boy must have been through something awful.

Basira, still crouched down next to the sleeping boy, asked, “Do you know how you got here? Are you here with anyone?”

“I don’t know…no, ma’am,” he said, looking at Basira curiously. 

Basira pinched her nose, thinking. “Do you know _where_ you are?” 

The child took a moment to consider this, solemnly looking around at the dark wood paneling and filled-to-the-brim bookcases, before slowly shaking his head. “No, ma’am.” he said.

Basira snorted. “Kid, you can just call me Basira. I don’t bite. You’re safe here. I just need you to tell me what happened so I can help you and your friend.” 

“He’s not my friend!” Jonah cried out. He paused, as if trying very hard to control himself. “He…he just…” 

“It’s okay. You can tell us,” Martin said. He felt completely out of his depth. He’d come in expecting some horror beyond all imagining, not a scared child. Honestly, he thought he might have felt more confident if confronted with the horror, and that wasn’t a particularly high bar.

Trying to remember what he might have wanted to hear as a kid, he added, “I promise we’ll believe you. You won’t get in trouble for telling us the truth.”

It was like a dam burst. Jonah suddenly started talking so fast that Martin could hardly keep up. “He…I woke up here, and I didn’t know where I was, and then he appeared _seemingly from nowhere_ and tried to attack me. And then his skin started to look very strange, and then was shrinking and turned into a child, and then he wouldn’t wake up.” He paused for a breath. “And…then you came in…sir,” he added as an afterthought. 

Basira and Martin looked at each other, nonplussed. Martin’s brain was short-circuiting. That… that couldn’t happen. Could it? 

Basira also seemed thrown, but she recovered quickly. “I mean, I’m not going to say it’s impossible. I’m going to need some evidence, but it also wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve seen. And it would explain how they’re dressed,” she said.

“Well…” Martin started to protest, but he supposed in retrospect, it truly wasn’t that much stranger than flesh-eating worms or his friend being taken over by an imposter for over a year. He sighed. “Actually, yeah. Good point.” 

Looking around the room, he noticed a book flung open on the carpet. The smiling faces on the cover were oddly intriguing, and without thinking he found himself wandering towards it. But before he could pick it up, Jonah cried out, “No!” 

“Don’t touch it, Martin,” Basira snapped, grabbing him by the arm. 

All of a sudden, Jonah’s story didn’t seem quite so improbable. 

“Christ, you don’t think that’s a….”

“I’d bet good money on it,” Basira replied. “We’ll get it later, with tongs or something. The last thing we need is to be transformed as well.”

“Should we get Artifact Storage? This is kind of their job.” 

“No. I don’t know if we can trust them. Let’s keep this in the archives for now... although I suppose we might have to tell Rosie,” she added.

A Leitner that could turn people into children. It didn’t seem as grotesque as most of the other Leitner’s he’d heard about, but it was horrifying in its own way. Martin took a moment to imagine the rest of the staff attempting to care for him. That was a terrible thought on a lot of levels. None of them were really in the right mental state to deal with children right now. They were hardly in a fit mental state to deal with each other. Although, when he really thought about it, being looked after by his coworkers here might still be better than his actual childhood was. 

Martin immediately felt guilty for that thought. _It wasn’t that bad. She just…she had problems, Besides, you’d hate being a kid again._

Basira patted down the sleeping boy’s pockets and pulled out a wallet. She looked inside, blinked twice, shook her head, and said, “Martin, can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?” 

“Er, sure. Jonah, you’ll be alright here for a minute, right? Just don’t touch anything. If you need anything or he gets worse, we’ll be right outside. ” Jonah nodded with a wary look at the book. 

As soon as they were right outside the door, she thrust the wallet into his hands. Inside was a driver’s license clearly stating it belonged to one Peter Lukas.

“No way,” Martin said. “This is… _fuck.”_

“My thoughts exactly. Is this the guy you met?” Basira asked.

“Yeah. I couldn’t swear the kid is the same man, but…now that I think about it, those are his clothes. So it makes sense.” Martin thought about the scene they’d walked in on. “Hey, did you realize that Jonah…”

“Looks exactly like a miniature Elias, poshness and all? Yeah. Caught that. And considering that the boy was in his office, it is the most logical conclusion.” 

Martin managed not to scream in frustration, but it was a close call. Great. So, it looked like they had two miniaturized avatars on their hands. “Okay, but why do you think he said his name is Jonah if he’s Elias? Is this some sort of trick? The next step in his evil plan?”

But that didn’t make a lot of sense. What possible advantage could there be? It wasn’t like he needed to gain their trust to spy on them. Or maybe Jonah was just a convenient look-a-like so that they’d assume Elias was turned into a child while he was off doing...something. Maybe he was even _Elias’s_ kid, and he hadn’t touched the book at all.

Martin hoped that wasn’t it. He hated the thought of any poor kid being raised by Elias of all people.

Basira looked like she was turning it over in her head as well. “Yeah. I’ve got nothing. We’ll just have to keep asking questions.” 

Just then, Jonah ran out and announced, “He’s waking up!” 

With another look at each other, Basira and Martin rushed back into the room to see Peter propping himself up on his elbows, taking in the room with a confused expression on his face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Martin said. “Don’t try to get up yet.” 

Peter looked at him suspiciously. When he spoke, it was very slow, and his voice sounded a bit hoarse. “Where…where am I? Who are you?”

“I’m Basira. This is Martin. You’re in the Magnus Institute, in London.”

“Magnus?” Jonah piped up, wonder clear in his voice. “My family’s name is Magnus.” 

Basira looked at him with both eyebrows raised and asked, “Your name’s Jonah Magnus?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Basira gave him a look.

“Er, sorry. I mean, yes,” he tried again without the ma’am.

Martin’s brain already felt like it had broken, but this was just… _Jonah Magnus._ The Elias look-a-like was named _Jonah Magnus_ , like the man who founded the institute? It’s…that actually did lend some credence to the idea that this might be Elias’s kid. It was the exact sort of pompous move he might make. Or maybe it really was…but how? 

“Right. I just need to make sure you boys haven’t hit your heads, so I’m going to ask a few questions,” Basira said. Then, she started firing off questions as quickly as the boys could answer.

Peter confirmed his identity, which was troubling enough in its own way. Neither boy remembered being anywhere near London — Peter last remembered being at Moorland House, and Jonah said he had been at Owlgrove Park. As they confidently shared details about their families’ respective estates, Martin could only think that both of them had better lower their expectations quickly if they were going to be stuck like this. 

Oh, God. He was already thinking through how the hell he’d manage to take care of two children long term. That wasn’t... he had no reason to think it would come to that. But if they were going to keep this a secret, he couldn’t exactly think of another solution.

Peter was nine, Jonah _almost_ seven — he’d said the ‘almost’ like it was very important. Both remembered going to sleep at home the night before and then nothing until they woke up here. Peter didn’t remember anything about what Jonah said had happened with the book. Jonah didn’t recognize the name Elias Bouchard at all and asked if this Elias was French. 

The two couldn’t have been more different in terms of attitude. Jonah seemed eager to please and unfailingly polite; Peter’s responses were sullen and monosyllabic whenever possible. However, both seemed weirdly unafraid. Shouldn’t both of them be freaking out? Or at least be asking where their parents were?

But Martin supposed that Peter’s terse replies at least made sense. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like growing up in the Lukas family. He knew well enough what it was like to grow up in a household where no one wanted you around, but at least it hadn’t been an actual philosophical stance. And his mother had at least interacted with him, even if that was mainly when she wanted him to do something for her. 

Neither seemed much like their adult selves at all. The Peter he’d met had been creepily affable, and Elias had never been this eager to answer questions in all the time Martin had known him. 

Finally, Basira asked the question she’d clearly been wanting to ask from the beginning. “Do either of you know the date?”

“27th of June,” both boys said, which was the correct answer. 

“And the year?”

“1969,” Peter said. 

“Martin, can you check that?” Basira asked. He couldn’t figure out what she meant until she gestured towards the wallet. He checked the license again. The year of birth listed was 1960. Slowly, he nodded at Basira.

Jonah laughed and said, “Don’t be silly. It’s 1801.” Peter glared at Jonah’s laughter but didn’t respond. 

Then, there was a long moment when no one said anything. 

And then another one.

Holy shit. So that means that kid actually could be _the_ Jonah Magnus, or at least that’s who he was pretending to be. But how the hell was a 200-plus-year-old kid here? Unless whatever magic the Leitner had had interacted strangely with whatever spooky powers were connected with the institute…but it still didn’t make any sense. 

Unless Elias was actually a fake name for the immortal founder of the institute. But that was stupid — wasn’t it? 

“Right, best get this over with. Both of you have been turned back into children because you touched that book. It’s...magic, in a way. It’s a Leitner, if the name means anything to you. The year is 2017,” Basira said. 

“Basira, you can’t just say it like that,” Martin said, aghast. He wouldn’t have been able to deal with that being dumped on him, and he was an adult.

“They were going to find out sooner or later. Lying gets us nowhere.”

“I guess.” 

Jonah asked, “Er, pardon me, madam. You said it is 2017?” His small face was scrunched up in confusion. Peter looked equally baffled, although he remained silent.

“Yeah. Um, here.” Basira held out her phone and revealed the date. Jonah looked at it closely and reached out to touch it, jumping up and gasping in surprise as the screen changed. 

“What, it’s just,” Basira paused. “Oh, right. This is a mobile phone. Modern invention.” “That’s a phone?” Peter asked, at the same time Jonah asked, “What’s a phone?” 

Basira looked between the two of them, sighed, and said, “Right. I don’t have time for this. Martin, a word?”

She pulled him to the side and whispered, “Look, can you let Rosie know what’s going on and distract them for a bit? This might be the best chance we’ll ever get to search this office and find out what’s really going on here.”

“What am I supposed to do with them?” He didn’t know anything about kids. That was to say, he didn’t dislike kids or anything, but he had no experience, even with normal children, nevermind potentially evil children from the past.

“I don’t know. Find something to entertain them,“ Basira said distractedly. 

“And if they turn back?” he said, trying not to panic. “Have you ever heard of a case where something like this reverses? But if it does… cross that bridge when it happens, I guess,” Basira said, already trying to shoo everyone out of the room.

Rosie needed to be filled in on less than he thought, because apparently she’d been eavesdropping. He couldn’t say he blamed her. Although wide-eyed and a bit shell shocked, she had agreed to go shopping so that the boys could have some clothes their own size. She also agreed to keep this all secret for now. 

“After all,” she said. “Mr. Bouchard would want it that way, and I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Martin couldn’t identify the feeling she put behind those words. Sadness? Relief? Apprehension? Simple certainty? 

She was polite enough to them all, but when Martin asked if she wanted to help out when she returned, she firmly refused, casting a wary glance at Jonah. And, it seemed like she couldn’t leave quickly enough, leaving Martin alone with the boys.

At a bit of a loss, Martin turned to them and asked, “Would either of you like tea? Biscuits?” 

*** 

Jonah didn’t quite know what to make of everything. His father had always told him not to be superstitious, but here he was because of a magic book. He’d known magic had to be real. But even his nurse’s stories had never involved magic that could take you to the future or change your age.

And he knew it was a magic book because he saw it work. But Mr. Martin had said he had been a grown up until he touched it, and that didn’t make sense. Yes, he knew he saw Peter get younger, which had looked _disgusting,_ but he thought he would remember being grown up. And he knew that when he’d gone to sleep last night, he’d been in his house and obviously he had been a child then. 

And everyone kept asking him about someone called Elias. He wondered who that was.

Maybe this Elias was sent back to his house, and he got sent here. The thought of a grown man being scolded by his nurse to stand up straight was pretty funny. Or maybe, the book had just made him fall asleep for a really, really long time.

At first, he had wondered if he had been kidnapped and taken far away, like in Robinson Crusoe. But no one had tried to eat him at all, and he hadn’t had to fight _any_ pirates. It was _disappointing._ He’d even been fed tea and biscuits, which seemed like a very proper English thing indeed, even if the tea had come in funny bags.

He was just disappointed that Peter didn’t seem to want to talk to him. He hadn’t quite known what to think of him because the bigger Peter had tried to attack him. But Peter didn’t seem to know anything about that any more than he knew about whoever Elias was supposed to be, so maybe he was a different person too. 

Jonah hoped he’d start being nicer. There hadn’t been another boy around in ages since his brother went off to school, and he wanted a playmate. But Peter had actually looked a bit scared when he’d tried to talk to him over tea, looking between Jonah and Martin rapidly as if waiting to see how Martin would react. He actually kept giving Jonah looks like his nurse sometimes had when she was trying to get him to behave around his parents, but he didn’t know what he was doing wrong. His table manners were better than Peter’s and Mr. Martin’s, so it couldn’t have been that.

He wondered what his parents would think about all this. He wasn’t sure they would _approve_ of Mr. Martin or Mrs. Basira — or was it Miss? She hadn’t said. And that was another odd thing. They hadn’t introduced themselves properly _at all_ , and he thought all adults knew how to introduce themselves. They dressed and spoke very strangely, and his father always said how people spoke and dressed was important. He couldn’t even tell which clothes were supposed to be for women and which were for men. Also, Mrs. Basira seemed to be in charge, which he didn’t think his father would like at all. She seemed very smart though. 

The important thing was, he wasn’t going to be scared like a baby. After all, his father had been planning on sending him away to Eton in a few years. He’d gotten him a tutor and everything so he’d have a head start. Jonah wanted to prove he was ready for it. And if he was busy being scared, he wouldn’t be able to have adventures he could tell everyone about when he got back home. Even though he had a sneaking suspicion he might get in trouble for making things up.

Maybe he could bring back proof — like the funny kettle that hadn’t needed a fire to heat up. Mr. Martin had said it was...eclectic, maybe. He bet the cook would like that. He just had to figure out a way to get it without everyone noticing.

He was sure he’d get back home somehow. Mr. Martin had said he didn’t know how to do that, but Jonah was smart. Everyone told him so. He was even learning Latin and his tutor said he was getting good at French and sums. He bet he could figure it out.

He wasn’t in any rush though. Everything here was much too interesting. Like the toilet in front of him. That was a strange thing to call the device. He thought a toilet was what his mother did when she was getting ready in the morning.

Mr. Martin had been really embarrassed to explain how everything in the room worked, which Jonah thought was very silly. This was the fanciest thing he’d ever seen. Anyone would want to show it off. But Mr. Martin had explained as little as possible, told him to make sure he washed his hands, and then had pretty much run away. 

Then again, maybe Mr. Martin was just sort of jumpy, like his sisters were when he played jokes on them. He wondered if he would also shriek if he tried playing jokes on him. He’d probably get in trouble if he tried that on an adult, though. 

Mr. Martin had also muttered something about, “There’s no way he would make this up.” Jonah wondered what that meant. What did he think he was making up?

Anyway, the toilet was a brilliant invention, and he was amazed that the room didn’t smell at all.

The sink was interesting too, with its taps for hot and cold water. He kept turning them on and off, and the water flowed perfectly every time. He bet not even the pipes in Bath were this good. Noticing a little plug at the bottom, he pushed it down. 

The soap was his favorite part. He had to jump up to reach it. It felt kind of like a game. Somehow, the container knew when his hand was underneath it. How did it know that? Was there a little person inside? The foamy soap also didn’t look like any soap he’d ever seen. And it just foamed up the more he rubbed it everywhere. His nurse always told him to make sure he scrubbed his hands and face well, so he made sure to get a lot of the soap. 

Once, when he jumped up, he noticed something. There was a looking glass up there. Why did adults always insist on putting everything interesting up high? And weren’t those really expensive? Why would there be one in such a small room? 

He tried jumping up a few more times to see, but he only saw brief flashes of himself.

Determined, he tried to climb up onto the sink. It took him a few tries because he’d gotten it really wet and slippery, and he was still wearing the shirt he’d woken up in. But he finally figured out how to climb up onto the toilet first and clamber up onto it. He almost fell, but he finally managed to sort of kneel, bracing himself against the wall to balance, one hand on either side of the mirror. He finally looked at himself, and he had to try very hard not to scream.

That wasn’t him looking back. It was a completely different little boy. 

He could do this. He was brave, and this was an adventure. He might have been scared when he’d first woken up, but he was fine now. Brave boys didn’t scream.

“Hello. Who are you?” he asked. The face in the mirror mouthed the words along with him.

He just stared for a minute, then reached out to touch the image. It’s hand mirrored his perfectly. He tried making some silly faces, and the strange boy copied every single one. 

Was this a magic looking glass, like the book had been magic? Was it making him look funny?

No, he touched his hair, and the boy in the mirror did the same. It stuck straight up and was blond and very short. _His_ hair was brown and curly. He yanked one of his hairs out and examined it. It was blond. 

In shock, Jonah slipped, falling to the floor and banging his knee. He realized he’d gotten all wet because he left the water running. He’d told himself not to be scared, and he was too big to start crying because his knee hurt, but this was all wrong. He was wrong. This wasn’t his body. He wanted his body back.

There was a knock at the door, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Mr. Martin rushed in, looking worried. Peter was lurking behind him, scowling.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Mr. Martin asked, instantly getting down on the floor with him. Jonah was so upset that he didn’t protest when he placed an arm around his shoulder.

“I….that isn’t me,” Jonah said. He couldn’t help but shake now, and tears were starting to form. He pointed up at the mirror.

“That isn’t me.”


End file.
